ANDERSON’S WINDOW: Circle of caring just runs in the family

Several weeks ago my sister visited me from New Jersey. One afternoon, as we sat on the patio at the Mill Wharf in Scituate under a clear blue sky, enjoying a cocktail while watching the boats drift in and out of the harbor, my sister turned to me and asked, “What are we going to do when Mom and Dad go?”

Several weeks ago my sister visited me from New Jersey. One afternoon, as we sat on the patio at the Mill Wharf in Scituate under a clear blue sky, enjoying a cocktail while watching the boats drift in and out of the harbor, my sister turned to me and asked, “What are we going to do when Mom and Dad go?”

Here we were, two sisters enjoying a rare quiet moment on one of the most beautiful afternoons of the fall and suddenly the conversation turned to a subject dreaded by us both: the eventual passing of our parents. I believe my sister’s initial concern was whether I would continue to bring my family to New Jersey on holidays if our parents were no longer there as our central hub of activity. “Of course we’ll still come, “ I replied, “you’re my family.”

But that initial question got us both thinking and after a few minutes of quiet discussion, I did what I always do when that thought pops into my head: I pushed it to the back of my mind and changed the subject. And ordered another cocktail.

I know my parents won’t last forever. At 78 and 83, I am fully aware of just how blessed my parents are to still live independently at home. On some level, I know that it’s just a matter of time before that situation changes, but my conscious mind tries to ignore it.

And then, just a few weeks after my sister’s visit, I received a disturbing call from my other sister. “Mom’s in the hospital. There’s something wrong with her heart.”

My first impulse was to jump in the car and drive the 300 miles to New Jersey, but my sisters assured me they would stay with my mother and keep me updated via phone and text messages. My father, who has very limited mobility and is extremely hard of hearing, was in the same boat as me. His physical limitations dictated that he stay home and wait for updates.

For the next 36 hours, my emotions were a pendulum swinging between fear for my mother’s health and guilt at my sisters having to bear the full responsibility of her care. Though the doctors seemed to be doing all the right things for my mother, my need to lay eyes on her increased with each passing hour. After a day and a half of phone and text updates, I decided I needed to do something more for my mother than just solicit prayers on her behalf. I packed a bag and headed to New Jersey.

I arrived at the hospital in time to help my mother dress, gather her things and be discharged. As I helped her into her clothes and tied her shoes, I realized it wasn’t too long ago that I helped my children with the same tasks and it was nearly 50 years ago that my mother helped me. We have come full circle.

Page 2 of 2 - This makes me an official member of the “sandwich” generation: people who care for both their children and their parents. This is nothing new. Since the beginning of time people have accepted that as their children grow older and become more independent, their parents will also grow older but become more dependent. And while it may not always be easy to juggle the demands of growing children with those of aging parents, I choose to focus instead on the fact that I’m blessed to have both in my life.

I spent a busy couple of days with my parents, doing laundry, changing linens, picking up prescriptions and cooking meals. Though I was nervous about my mom’s condition, it was a pleasure to lose myself in the day-to-day tasks that needed to be done. I felt useful. Needed. Appreciated. It was nice to set aside the mantel of wife/mother and just be a daughter again. Best of all, I felt I had taken some of the pressure off my sisters, who live a short distance from my parents but have jobs and families of their own. I know that when that next call comes (and it will come), they will be the ones to respond immediately while I will be the one receiving the news long distance.

So yes, I’m a member of the sandwich generation, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. An Oreo cookie is technically a sandwich. And, like my parents on one end and my children on the other, it’s a sweet one.

Laura Anderson is a wife and mother who writes about life from her home in Hanover. She considers all incidents with family, friends and strangers fair game for her column.